A soft yet heavy breathing, a slow heart beating heavily, a flowing soul. These may seem like something out of a love story, but really they mark the end of something. The end of a life, a precious one crafted meticulously by years of living. Well at least they would say on Earth, but imagine being the one to control such an awful fate.

Every life is a string, every string has an end. Someone has to cut it, or the end will never come. Many may call my job a rather grim one, but I believe that those who pass judgment have it worse. I have no emotions, no need to bother with morality, after all I have but one job. Cut. I thought it would be entertaining, but it's mere repetition after a point. Decide who dies, when they die, where they die, how they die, it's all left up to me. I thought these would have infinite implications, but there's only so many different vehicles to get run over by, only so many things one can choke on. I'm sick and tired of it. I was the first, and I was told never to leave. I continue my typical routine. Snip. Cut. Snip.

I do not regret my decision, somebody had to do it. I never get a day off, but occasionally something new is discovered. Long ago, wings of wax. Nobody uses such things anymore. Lately, though, I have been restless, trying to find a new way to entertain myself. I would never be able to though, a being with no heart, no lungs for such a breath, no soul full of life. I end the cycle, refusing to be a part of it.

I wonder what being in such a cycle would be like. Birth, life, death. The endless cycle in which I only see the end. What does the beginning look like? Why do I even wonder? I should have no mind, I should merely be a husk as to stop the cycle. The cycle. The cycle. What if it does end? Billions of years have passed since I started, but I never once questioned it. Thousands of years pass in the blink of an eye, I countine my routine. Cut. Snip. Cut.

What if I find the last thread? Will Earth cease to exist? I would have no meaning in this lifeless life. What should I do? I have to run away.

Suddenly my heartless body has a beating heart, my breathless lungs hold a breath, my lifeless soul has a life. I turn around and see but an eerie smile in the shadows. A man holding scissors to a pure white string going straight through me. Snip.